Marion Agnew

Here are a few awesome things I've seen recently. Love the natural world? Love words? Go here and read "Antevernals in the Anthropocene" on The Last Word on Nothing blog , in which Michelle Nijhuis (among other things) suggests coining new terms for natural phenomena in our changing climate. In fact, the entire blog is awesome--varied and interesting. As they say on their "About" page, they provide "Science: clear, crafty, and delivered to your door." Assuming your door is a computer, I guess. Anyway, lots of great writers, lots of great content. Here's an awesome fund-raising idea : Four anthologies, each describing a different season, all to raise money for the (UK) Wildlife Trusts. They'll be released throughout the year and are edited by Melissa Harrison ( whose fiction I raved about earlier ) (and who also has a new book, Rain: Four Walks in English Weather on its way in early March). You can get the Spring anthology now. (Too ...

Q: How is assembled-at-home furniture like a manuscript? Furniture Some ten years after putting together our "wardrobe" (a credenza from an office supply store), my husband looked at it and said, "Why don't those doors latch?" I've been wondering for years without caring enough to find out. My husband, however, took the doors off, took the hardware off them, got out a measuring tape, and started puzzling over what he found. At one point he called me into the bedroom and pointed at the insides of the doors. "Does this make sense to you? The pre-drilled holes show the latch goes here, like this, but how would that work? Why would the latch slide up, instead of sideways in front of this thing here? They must have drilled it wrong at the factory." I was working on something else at the time, so I shrugged and said, "Not sure. Are you going to re-drill it?" "I guess. That's the only thing that makes sense," he said. ...

No one could ruin a Saturday morning like my father, bless him. At breakfast, he'd deflate my hope of a long mindless day--endless channel-surfing (yes, walking back and forth from the couch to the black-and-white TV to see what Saturday morning drivel was on all four channels) and re-reading books I already knew by heart--simply by asking, "What USEful thing are you going to do today?" USEful to him meant cleaning out the garage. Picking up my clothes or otherwise cleaning my room. Clearing my homework and schoolbooks off the dining room chair where I tended to dump them (and finishing my homework, but that was a given, not really USEful). Helping my mother cook Sunday dinner, organizing the stuff on and in her desk, or matching plastic margarine tubs with lids. In other words, doing something to contribute to the family--something my parents wanted me to do, not necessarily something I wanted to do, and preferably what they told me to do. Since then, my definition...

Dear Esteemed Literary Journal: Thank you for considering my recent submission. As I said in my submission cover letter, I appreciate the time and effort required to read it--and to do all the other tasks involved in managing a literary journal these days. After reading the form rejection letter accompanying your rejection, I'm really grateful you chose not to publish my piece. I submitted it to you because your journal has a really good reputation. But I submitted against my better judgment. I really, REALLY shouldn't have. I was dubious after subscribing for a year, when I didn't particularly enjoy reading any of the issues. They weren't cohesive, unique, or even interesting. Only one short story made me sit up and say "Hmm." No "wow" at all. So I should have known better to start with:  My work and your journal just aren't a good fit.  But, as I said, your reputation...well, it's enticing. And you say you're open to new-to-you ...

The Malahat Review's issue focusing on creative nonfiction is now available! The cover is simply gorgeous. The contents include my essay, "Dripsody (Reprise)," plus many other types of creative nonfiction, including book reviews. It's an honour to have work appear in this august company. In it, I refer to "Dripsody," a musical composition by my uncle, Hugh LeCaine. You can hear a sample at HughLeCaine.com here . But seriously: the cover! By Jeffrey Veregge , it's entitled Nothing Can Hold Us . And it's beautiful.

I'm thinking about paperwork these days. Maybe it's because the first of the year always brings paperwork (year-end income and expense statements, for starters), or maybe because these few months have required both my passport renewal and the renewal of my permanent residence card. In any case: documenting one's whereabouts, one's activities--it can require keeping paper, and knowing where you've kept it. But there's also something a little spooky about paperwork defining you. A trip through my strongbox this morning was a wee trip down memory lane. Marital status, residence, church membership, university transcripts, work status information--all of it requires paper, much of which could be kept. But should it? This past weekend was the memorial service for Margaret Phillips, feminist, activist, and the personality and energy behind the Northern Woman's Bookstore. She was an important part of the region's recognition of art and literature, and we...

A really neat element of country living is sharing your life with animals. We don't keep livestock (on purpose--don't get me started about supporting squirrels and/or other rodents) just as we don't really garden. However, we share our place with wild creatures: eagles and a lynx as well as the more prosaic (though still interesting) ravens and crows, foxes and otters. This morning, we noticed eagles screeching and soaring unusually close to our house. It was cold enough (-5F) that we didn't expect their persistence. Now that our bay is beginning to freeze and the shoreline is mostly snow-covered, they often do a fly-by or two, then climb thermals and go off to hunt in open water. This morning, the eagles and many ravens seemed to linger a few hundred meters to the right of the house, near the shore but out on the (growing) lake ice. I couldn't tell from the house, and I wasn't comfortable going out *too* far on the new ice to get close, but some type of ani...